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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22522954">Stories of the Second Self: Line of Separation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner'>John_Steiner</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Alter Idem [40]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>National Guard - Fandom, Urban Fantasy - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 11:28:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,992</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22522954</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>During a sparring match in close quarters battle training Jerrod Connor feels something awaken within him. Before he realizes it, Jerrod has turned into a therianthropic wolf.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Alter Idem [40]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stories of the Second Self: Line of Separation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Double-time, march!" Staff Sergeant Mills called out.</p><p>Jerrod and the rest of the platoon switched from Quick-Time into a trot that picked up into a full jog. It took a few weekends of drill to get some of the Guardsman in his unit to be able to jog in step, but eventually they got it down.</p><p>However, Sergeant Mills decided that in the two weeks readiness training he'd push their physical limits. Five miles in, and Jerrod had long since given up maintaining step with other people, and focused just on his breathing. Sergeant Mills admonished him and others for slipping out of formation step, but somehow Jerrod got the sense that Mills honestly didn't care.</p><p>"One... one, two, three four!" Mills cadenced out, and then turned with exaggerated irritation at the whole of Third Platoon. "C'mon Third Herd! How hard's it gotta be? One, two, three, four! When your left foot hits the ground- let me hear the marching sound! Your left, your left, your military left!"</p><p>While it was five miles on the map, some of the platoon had slacked off PT on their civilian time. Leaders of the run had to circle around to reel in stragglers, making it more of a seven or eight mile run. Jerrod was in pretty good shape before enlisting, but his motivation to improve himself in the Guard wasn't as common as he felt it should be.</p><p>He had no idea what landmark Sergeant Mills was running them to, but knew they got there when Mills called out, "Quick-Time, march! Platoon, HALT!"</p><p>Jerrod still paced his breathing according to his footfall pattern, because he also was short of breath. Yet, at the same time, he felt his blood buzzing through him and enjoyed it. The burn he used to get in his legs was something to be missed, now that he didn't feel it. Come to think of it, recovering of his breath came back faster than he thought it normally did.</p><p>Rumors of Sergeant Mills having been active Army before transferring to the Guard seemed to be reinforced by his discontent with the PT minimum. Or maybe he was just that sadistic. With a good NCO you could never know.</p><p>Yet, Mills wasn't done. He then ordered Third Platoon to turn half-right and drop to do three-count pushups. On position One the guys were required to lower themselves until their elbows were bent to right angles and held there. Once Mills was satisfied with the groans he heard, he would then call Two, letting them struggle to extend their arms in full. At Three everyone had to lower down to the same level as the first position and push back up. Mills ran the platoon through twenty of those, before cycling through another exercise.</p><p>Jerrod only got good at pushups because Army Basic required him to, even though he'd worked hard around the house with his dad. It made ab crunches come as a relief, especially because Jerrod could bust out ninety situps in a minute without strain. Though, Mills had more in mind after that.</p><p>Resuming the run, Sergeant Mills brought the platoon to the obstacle course, where unknown to Jerrod or anyone else, he'd sent out the water truck and the Pugil-Stick Training equipment. Each Pugil-Stick was covered with three heavy pads, two on the ends and one in between hand grips.</p><p>First, Sergeant Mills had the platoon take fifteen minutes to recuperate, and hydrate. After, he ordered Third Platoon onto the bleachers around the sand pit where the Pugil-Stick fighting was done.</p><p>"Private Rolland, front and center," Mills called out, pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back. "Gear up!"</p><p>Rolland was one of the bigger guys in the platoon, and so Jerrod wondered which of the other larger guys Mills would muster up.</p><p>Except, that weren't the name Mills barked out, "PFC Conner, step up!"</p><p>'He's fuckin' kidding,' Jerrod thought to himself, but didn't say it out loud when he stood up. 'Me against the bruiser?'</p><p>"Get over here, Connor and get that shit on," Mills prodded, "C'mon, c'mon, get hot!"</p><p>Tilting his head in concession to the moment, Jerrod muttered under his breath, "This'll be interesting."</p><p>Jerrod strapped on the body padding and the helmet, and then one of the other sergeants came up to offer him a mouth piece to put in. Then, Mills waved Rolland and Jerrod over to the sand pit facing each other.</p><p>Before signaling to begin, Mills faced the rest of the platoon. "A lot of what you do in the Guard isn't about combat, but don't think you're not here for that. A generation of Guardsmen before you had to do fifteen month tours in Iraq. That was in a time when the Marines bailed on us, leaving the Army and the Guard holding the bag. So when you hear all that 'First In, Last Out' noise from a Marine, just know that they're bullshittin' you! Hoo'ah?"</p><p>"Hoo'ah, Staff Sergeant!" Third Platoon cadenced back.</p><p>Mills turned around. "Do either of you know who's first in?"</p><p>"Officially, Air Force," Jerrod cracked.</p><p>Mills suppressed a smirk at that, but nodded to Jerrod. "And unofficially?"</p><p>"The boys from Langley," Jerrod added, "But we don't talk about that, right Staff Sergeant?"</p><p>"You two ready?" Mills called out for the sake of the others watching.</p><p>"Hoo'ah, Staff Sergeant!" Jerrod and Rolland both yelled, and set their fighting stance.</p><p>"Round One, Ding, ding!" Mills announced.</p><p>Rolland wasn't just big, but also quicker than he looked, and landed the first blow against Jerrod. He was off his feet before he knew it, and had to pick himself up.</p><p>"I'm getting the impression that Private Rolland isn't fuckin' around, PFC Conner," Mills chided, "Better dole it out like you mean it."</p><p>Rolland made a feint to get Jerrod jumpy, and then exploited Jerrod's premature block. The shot to his head made Jerrod glad for the helmet pads. Rolland threw a couple more that Jerrod managed to fend off, before Jerrod dared strike back.</p><p>There was a loud thud of Pugil-Sticks connecting, making Rolland look Jerrod up and down a couple times, before making another attack. "What'chu got Jerrod? Get some!"</p><p>It felt like a surge of heat coursing through Jerrod, when his feisty mood spiked. Nose and upper lip twitching, Jerrod shifted between feet before throwing three light smacks with the stick, but Rolland had an easy time defending against those.</p><p>"This ain't dance, PFC Conner!" Mills paced around rolling his index finger forward in the air. "That's not Rolland in front of you, that's the bad guy. That's Hajji lookin' to smoke your ass!"</p><p>To emphasize the point, Rolland threw his own strike combo, which ended with another upper body driven swipe across the face, followed by the Pugil-Stick hit similar to striking with the butt of a rifle.</p><p>Both impacts had Jerrod reeling to where his knees felt like they'd buckle. Then, it was like someone flipped a switch in his head. Rolland, thinking he'd gone too far, paused to see of Jerrod was okay. Doing just fine, thank you very much, Jerrod swung hard into a right side uppercut.</p><p>Rolland caught the ruse just in time, and slammed his stick down horizontally to block. However, Jerrod reversed the motion quick, and landed his first blow on the top of Rolland's head.</p><p>Not done by a long shot, Jerrod spun around to thrust the stick in like a spear stab. After that, he followed through with hit from the middle of the stick to Rolland's face and escalated from there.</p><p>Seven strikes later, all unblocked, and Jerrod flung the stick away entirely. He hooked his left hand around one side of Rolland's Pugil-Stick and swept it aside and lunged in. Jerrod grabbed Rolland by the front, then jumped to one side while swinging the much more massive Rolland to the other. By the time Rolland hit the ground, Jerrod was already on top of him.</p><p>Somehow, Jerrod realized that Rolland's being startled came with a distinct smell and subtle body movements that stood out as if broadcasted. Jerrod threaded his fingers into the body padding straps on the back, and ripped his hand up.</p><p>The straps popped loose, before Jerrod realized that his fingers weren't the same anymore. His human grunts had rolled over into raspy growls, and then Jerrod realized he was seeing his own nose stretch out.</p><p>Pain shot up through every body and all Jerrod's muscles, but that just made him want to tear at something, anything all the more. Hearing Mills yelling made Jerrod push away from Rolland, who scrambled to make distance from the sand pit.</p><p>Jerrod curled over with his fingers flexing from the searing mix of muscles both cramped up and feeling overextended. His bones cracked all over, and then Jerrod noticed the fur emerging through a skin tone he thought was no longer his own.</p><p>The helmet pad became constricting on Jerrod's head, until he ripped that off with the sounds of shredding. His feet felt compressed, like his boots were shrinking, which made Jerrod bend around and bite at the leather and Cordura material.</p><p>Jerrod didn't question why it never occurred to him to untie and remove his boots, the pain being so bad, and simply tugged and tore until freeing his elongated feet. Ripping the sweaty socks loose with his teeth just seemed natural. The odors of his body brought more than a dozen distinct scents, each of which told Jerrod about his own physical fitness and health.</p><p>Not only was Jerrod hearing exclamations and clattering of other platoon members, but Jerrod heard their breathing individually. It told him precisely how terrified each one became at the sight of Jerrod. He gazed back at them in utter bewilderment, that had Jerrod tilting his head sideways the way a confused dog would.</p><p>"Everyone back away!" Mill yelled to Third Platoon and the other sergeants. "Back up, but DO NOT run! Jerrod? You in there?"</p><p>"You alright, son?" one of the other NCOs asked of Rolland.</p><p>Rolland, looking to have about pissed himself and flush in the face with abject horror, nodded with a trembling hand rubbing at his neck.</p><p>Jerrod cooled off at the precise moment the bodily burn subsided. In his head, he felt he was the same person as before, but his body clearly didn't agree.</p><p>Studying his hands, Jerrod noted the thick pads of a dog on his fingers, the upper part of his palms and right at the base of the palm. Four of his claws were almost two inches long and curved only a little. Dew claws on his thumbs reminded him of his parents' dog, but larger for Jerrod's own size.</p><p>"Easy Jerrod," Sergeant Mills soothed, holding out hands to him.</p><p>He realized that Mills was addressing him by first name, which meant Mills' own military discipline was shaken loose by the spontaneous development.</p><p>A quick look at his own Action Dress Uniform revealed no tears, but they felt tight around his chest and too loose around the hips. Jerrod felt something stuffed down the back of one pant leg, and felt around to see that he had a tail.</p><p>"Wha' zhe zh'i?" Jerrod exclaimed with a deep rasp to his voice, and realizing his mouth couldn't properly form the words for, 'What the shit.'</p><p>"Just stay calm, Jerrod," Mills said again, "Alright? Can you hear me in there, Jerrod? Just take it easy. No one's gonna approach you."</p><p>Turning his fur-enshrined head, Jerrod felt his triangular ears perk up, on seeing another sergeant talking over his cell phone, "Yeah, we need the MP's out here pronto! Ah... you're not going to believe what we're seeing, but it's a life-threatening issue. While you're at it, get Akron Animal Control up here."</p><p>Jerrod turned back to Sergeant Mills with an expression more fitting a puppy uncertain of what they did wrong.</p>
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